


Seeds

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Cheating, Drunk Fitz, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: This takes place very early in season four when Jemma is running around trying to gain Mace's trust.  Fitz is lonely and goes to Radcliffe's place to watch the match and have some beers.





	Seeds

The match was a good one and by the time it was over, Fitz was well into his cups. They’d started with some of Radcliffe’s scotch before the match while Holden was cooking. Fitz didn’t care so much about what they were eating just that someone was making it with their own two hands, though Holden had noticed he took two helpings. Apparently it had been some time since Fitz had had a home-cooked meal. Jemma had been busy and it just wasn’t the same when you made food for yourself. Jemma was gone all the time now and it was weighing on Fitz heavily as they ate. They switched to the sixer of Guinness he’d brought in the second half and now that the game was wrapping up Fitz was pretty bombed. 

Conversation turned to work as it always did and they mapped a few things out, Holden getting up to get his tablet and looking totally sober to Fitz’s eyes. “ ’s not fair,” he slurred as Holden got to his feet. “You drank as much as I did!” 

“Ya, but my liver’s already pickled.” Holden patted his side and gave Fitz a wink. Fitz knew that Radcliffe was flirtatious. He’d always been that way, back to the first time Fitz met Dr. Radcliffe. “Tell me that thing you said about tomato seeds.” Fitz blinked a few times. “You’ve forgotten.” 

“Ya… I have,” Fitz said with a little smirk before leaning back into the couch and looking at the ceiling. That was a terrible idea because he immediately got the spins. Fitz sat up and bent at the waist, trying to find a fixed point to focus on as to stop the world from whipping around so damn fast. A warm, wide hand rested in the middle of his back, rubbing a slow circle. Fitz knew that closing his eyes was a bad idea but he did it on instinct, the sensation of someone touching him surprisingly effective in cutting through the haze of alcohol. Holden was talking and Fitz just kind of nodded. Fitz was being brought to his feet and he followed along mostly because Radcliffe had him around the waist and Fitz was pressed in close on his side. And he was warm. So wonderfully warm that Fitz just moved closer when the man walked them out onto his balcony to get some air. “ ’s cold,” Fitz complained. 

“That’s the point, my boy.” Holden’s hand came to the back of Fitz’s neck, rubbing briskly. “It’ll wake you up, help clear your head a bit.” Instead of taking his hand away, Holden continued to rub. He’d slipped his fingers under the collar of Fitz’s shirt, his thumb digging in against the side of Fitz’s neck. Without really thinking about it, Fitz closed his eyes again, sighing and leaning into the touch. Holden looked at him, checking to see that he wasn’t about to pass out. “Still there?” 

“I’m drunk not dying,” Fitz countered. He was struck by the light on Holden’s face and smiled a little dimly at the Picasso-like shapes the light was creating. Fitz reached up to run his fingers down one of the shapes from Holden’s ear to his jaw, rasping his stubble the opposite way. Holden shuddered and looked at him with a burning Fitz hadn’t had directed in his way from another man in a long time. Fitz’s hand dropped to Radcliffe’s shoulder, playing with the shoulder seam of his shirt. “I like this.” The fabric was soft and Fitz petted it for another few moments before he withdrew his hand. Fitz looked over at Holden who was just staring at him. “What?” 

“… nothing,” Holden shook his head and stood up. “You have some deep breaths and I’ll fetch some water.” 

“I’m fine,” Fitz argued but Radcliffe was already up and out the door toward the kitchen. That left Fitz standing on the balcony in the cool air half swaying to a song in his mind. He found his way in a few minutes later when Holden didn’t reappear. “Hey… you were bringing me water,” he told the man who was standing at his countertop banging away at a keyboard furiously. “Think of something?” Fitz came in close behind Holden, hanging over his shoulder to see what he was working on. “… oh, tomato seeds,” Fitz flicked the screen with a grin. “I’m brilliant.” 

“You are,” Radcliffe replied with a pat to Fitz’s hip. “Have you caught the thought again?” Fitz nodded and took the keyboard from Holden, sitting down at the table. “I’ll fetch you some water.” Fitz nodded but didn’t say anything, focused on the screen. It only took a couple of minutes, but soon enough they were looking at a real, workable theory. Radcliffe set down the water and Fitz looked up. He was grinning like mad, looking like he’d lost ten years of lines and sadness. “You’re bloody brilliant, my boy.” His hands clasped on Fitz’s shoulders and squeezed. Fitz grinned. Radcliffe sometimes overdid praise and embarrassed Fitz, but right now he felt good. Maybe it was the booze loosening him up, but Fitz liked this closeness. It was something he’d always wanted. Fitz had tried for a big brother in Ward then maybe a father figure in Coulson, but Fitz’s relationships with men always fell apart. He never trusted the right ones and pulled back from the men he should trust. Hell, how long had he hoped his father would come home a changed man ready to be a real parent? 

“Ok?” Radcliffe came around to sit on the edge of the desk facing Fitz. “You should be thrilled. This is bloody brilliant.” Radcliffe leaned close to him, examining his face. “You look as though someone’s just killed your dog.” 

Fitz grimaced and looked up. “Sorry… my brain went sideways.” 

“Well keep it between the rails, man. This is tremendous work.” Radcliffe reached out to pat Fitz’s cheek with a grin before pulling him into a hug. Holden was generally a pretty touchy, open guy. Fitz had never known how he felt about that. Sometimes it was ok, sometimes it made him uncomfortable, but mostly Fitz just noticed how good Radcliffe smelled. There was always some liquor smell on him but it was more than that. He smelled warm, inviting. Fitz settled into the hug, letting it go on for far too long because he was drunk and it felt good. 

“I’m tired.” It was all he had and Holden patted his back and pulled back. Fitz immediately regretted speaking. 

“You can grab the guest room if you want. We’ll get you an extra bin for next to the bed though, I think. New carpets. Unless Simmons is waiting on you tonight.” Radcliffe gave him a dirty look and Fitz must have made a face. “Oh… all is not well in paradise?” 

“Simmons is in Australia. She’s gone until Tuesday.” Fitz was also lonely as hell, but he did not share that. “You don’t care if I sleep here?” It was silly, but even being in proximity to someone else was going to be helpful. Closeness on the base was different than it would be staying here for the night. It was late anyway. 

“You didn’t answer my other question, lad.” Radcliffe put an arm around his shoulders and led Fitz back to the sofa, sitting them both down and handing Fitz his water. How was Radcliffe so functional when they’d had the same amount? Fitz tried to do the maths in his head based on how much each of them weighed, but got lost when the man ran his hand up and down the length of Fitz’s spine. “How are things between you?”

“Things… I love her.” It was true, but it was about all he could say right now. Simmons was running her ass off following Mace around or was out of town so much more. And that left Fitz alone. Again. 

“I see. Well… my guest room is yours whenever you need it.” Holden gave Fitz a pat on the arm before settling back into the couch. “As are my couch, fridge, and anything else you need.” Fitz got a wild thought to push the offer of anything, to question Radcliffe until he found something he wasn’t welcome to. Instead Fitz refocused on his water. “… is there anything I can do to help,” Holden asked quietly. “I’m crap at relationships and I really wouldn’t take any of my advice anyway… but it’s what you’re supposed to say, right?” Holden smiled crookedly and raised his glass. He was back to drinking scotch. 

“How are you not in a ball on the floor,” Fitz asked with a nod at his glass. 

“I’m a functional alcoholic, Fitz. Have been for years.” Radcliffe shrugged. “And look,” he held out his hand. His broad, strong, steady hand. “Not a tremor.” 

Not knowing what possessed him, Fitz reached out to touch Radcliffe’s thigh, thumb digging in just a little. “There’s one,” Fitz teased with a smile up at his newly acquired mentor. There was nothing friendly or sweet on Radcliffe’s face in that moment, nothing paternal or even mentorly. It was lust. Fitz didn’t realize his hand wasn’t moving and, if anything, he was gripping harder now that he was holding Radcliffe’s eyes. Holden’s hand turned, cupping Fitz’s cheek and pulling him close. It was fast, but not so fast he couldn’t stop things. Also, he climbed into Holden’s lap within seconds… so there was that. All it took was that look, that touch, and Fitz’s drunk mind was ready to throw everything away because the loneliness was eating him alive. The pull to Radcliffe was stronger than anything he’d felt outside of him and Simmons. He and Radcliffe got along well, maybe flirted through intellect if he looked at it through another lens, but they’d certainly never done anything like this. 

Fitz was breathless, lips parted and a little dry because Holden was taking forever to get to him. In his impatience, Fitz came forward and caught the man’s mouth roughly, probably cutting Holden’s gums. It was fast and hard, Fitz’s short nails scraping down the back of Holden’s neck as the man’s tongue crowded into Fitz’s mouth. Holden’s hands slipped under Fitz’s shirt, pushing it up enough that his fingers were caressing Fitz’s chest. It wasn’t until the man’s fingers settled into the cradle of his shoulder blade that Fitz had to come up for air, pupils blown. He was sure he’d gone pink all over, a flush never just staying on his cheeks like a normal person’s. “Leo,” the older man asked quietly. His voice sounded rough, a little frayed at the edges. Instead of listening to whatever Holden was going to say, Fitz cut him off with another kiss, this time his hands moved under Holden’s shirt. 

Holden Radcliffe was a smart man and did not look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Fitz was grateful for that. This felt good. It felt uncomplicated by time on different planets or traitorous teammates or all the other things that conspired against him and Jemma to keep them apart. His hands rasped over chest hair then down the man’s sides. He was in good shape for a man his age, but Fitz liked that. He had to admit that he’d been attracted to men in the past, he just hadn’t acted on it too often. This felt different. This wasn’t some passing interest, some flit of his attention. Fitz understood the difference between snogging and _snogging_. And this had feeling. Fitz moaned into Holden’s mouth as the man framed his face with both hands. 

Fitz’s shirt joined Holden’s on the floor and the sight of them there together was surprisingly arousing. “Tell me what I’m allowed, Fitz.” Radcliffe’s voice was lower, his burr more pronounced. “God the things I want to do to you,” He hissed along the curve of Fitz’s jaw. God that felt good. Radcliffe’s hands squeezed Fitz’s ass, pulling him closer until they were grinding against each other hard. The kisses became more frantic and soon Fitz found that his hands migrated to Radcliffe’s belt, pulling it open as his mouth moved across stubble down to a smooth shoulder. Fitz had no clue what he was doing, but going in for another seemed like the right thing to do regardless. Holden’s hands moved to Fitz’s hips, shifting him so they were grinding against each other more fully, the kisses becoming more open-mouthed and breathless as their trousers filled out. “Let me take you to bed.” 

The thought was terrifying and it was probably the point where Fitz should have run out the door screaming and called Jemma to confess. Instead he cleared his throat and nodded. “Y… yes.” Fitz was trying to be bold despite the fear running through him. This was stupid and if he stopped now, maybe he had a chance of reconciling this with himself. But Radcliffe was urging them both forward, away from the couch and toward the bedroom. They got roughly twenty feet from the couch before the snogging started again in an attempt to chase away Fitz’s worries. “Oh God.”  
“… shit.” Seeming to know what was about to happen, Radcliffe’s eyes followed Fitz as he darted to the bathroom. Fitz barely made it in before the tears started. He was sick more from what he was doing than the booze, though that was making a spectacular reappearance. Radcliffe quietly knocked on the door, “I’ve got water and some bread if you’d like.” 

Fitz’s head fell forward and thunked against the wall, “not yet.”

“I’ll leave it out here. Listen, mate… doesn’t have to mean anything. It stays between us.” Radcliffe’s voice was muffled through the door, but it did sound sincere. “Guest room’s still yours if you want it, or get a Lyft.” The pause was heavy, sitting there waiting for a response. Fitz knew he ought to speak but found himself unable. “Fitz… Leo,” Radcliffe’s voice got a little deeper and Fitz’s whole body rose to it bringing another round of nausea with it. “I’m going to my bedroom… door’s open if you want me for anything.” He let the last word hang and Fitz got it, but really didn’t know what he was going to do. “Good night, Leopold.”

“… thanks… thanks.” Fitz turned toward the door. “Good night.” Fitz could almost feel Holden standing there for a few minutes, waiting, maybe hoping that Fitz would come to him. Fitz stayed on the floor until well after he was certain Radcliffe had gone to his room. It took him a long few minutes of warring with himself in the mirror before Fitz finally made his decision. He took a sip of water from the faucet, cringing at the chemical aftertaste before he quietly unlocked the bathroom door, choice clear in his head. He could see the light spilling from the slightly ajar door of Radcliffe’s room. Fitz’s eyes fixated on it for a long while until he saw another light, his phone. The notification from his Lyft driver came through, a bright rescue buoy on a turbulent, drunk sea. Fitz couldn’t be certain, but he was petty sure he saw Holden’s eyes follow them as they pulled out of the driveway and down the street.


End file.
